


Dear Supergirl

by Late_to_the_party_2



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Criminals Being Held Accountable for their Crimes, F/F, People Actually Getting Justice, People Actually Stopping Abuse, The Women of Supergirl Kicking Ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Late_to_the_party_2/pseuds/Late_to_the_party_2
Summary: If you like supporting the patriarchy and oppression of women, move on you'll hate this story. Likewise if you don't think Supergirl is about Social Justice or the arts and the media shouldn't be used to help society, don't waste my time reading my story.Sorry I guess I haven't updated in a while because it didn't look like anyone was still reading.





	1. Chapter 1

This is non-canon to the extreme for many reasons. Don't freak, it's gonna be okay.

"Maybe the laws of this city won't protect her, but I will!" The last words she'd spoken, and the sound of her fists colliding (with deliberately controlled restraint) with the skin and bones of the man standing before her still echoed in her mind.

But right now Supergirl was sitting on a hard metal bench in a far room of the DEO, being lectured to like a child.

Hank Henshaw was pacing the floor, slowly, each footfall echoing; a tactic that Kara knew was simply meant to draw out the time and hammer in how wrong she was, to make her feel bad, guilty, remorseful of what she'd done. It was a tactic every parent, even her own, used. But neither Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El, nor Supergirl felt any guilt. Because what she did wasn't wrong.

Hank finally stopped pacing, hand to his head and turned back to face Kara, his face grim. "What were you thinking?!"

It had been a while since she'd seen Hank this angry. The dark black of his DEO uniform and the silver gray wall behind him cut his image into a sharp silhouette. Every muscle in his neck was working as if trying and failing to swallow his anger.

He inhaled,again, trying to contain his anger, but it didn't work very well. "You cannot, you can not go out there and be some sort of... vigilante!" He finished, his dark brown eyes meeting Kara's gray eyes with urgency.

Kara clenched the edge of the bench with both hands, leaning towards him, not convinced. Her blond hair flew forward in front of her face as if she were swinging from a swing.

"That's what we do every day!" She protested. "We protect the people of this city from harm-"

"From alien harm," his voice pierced through her own.

"From harm!" She raised both her hands. "What does it matter who it's from?"

She saw Alex watching her from the corner of the room, shoulders pressed against the wall, one leg bent and foot to the wall, propping herself up. She knew Alex had called in Maggie to "carefully explain the law to her", she didn't need super hearing to catch that either.

In her mind she saw the man again, with balled fists the size of Christmas hams, coming at a woman half the size of Alex, pieces of a restraining order still falling down through the air around them.

"This city, this country," Kara pushed herself up to standing, her red cape falling and draping around her at the movement, " this entire planet is in much more danger from abusive boys and men than it is from an entire planet of aliens!" Her voice cut through the silence in the room like the crack of a whip.

Henshaw shook his head and simply walked to the furthest side of the room.

In the momentary silence of the two aliens, footsteps could be heard walking down the hall towards them. Maggie, Kara realized. Her steps were a confident but easy stride. The confidence in her abilities allowed her gait to be relaxed and easy. Or maybe it was just because she knew she wasn't walking into danger. She had to give the woman credit, Maggie Sawyer defended the city in skin that wasn't at all bulletproof.

It probably wasn't difficult to figure out which room they were in, as neither Hank nor Kara were restricting themselves to "an inside voice".

In moments Maggie was on the threshold of the room, leaning with her shoulder and side of her head against the doorframe, as if she did this every day. As if she were bored with it.

"Many women would say that men are an alien race," she added to Kara's comment. She pushed her brown hair back with one hand, glancing around the room with a gaze that missed nothing. "Throughout history the most horrific crimes were committed by men. Wars? All started by men. Guns? Created by a man."

"And this is helpful how?" Hank stared at her.

Sawyer completely ignored him.

"Most of the women in prison right now are there because they were defending themselves against a man." She'd straightened up off the door frame and now stood erect, her chin tilted back in defiance and defense, as if expecting someone to say she was lying.

"You see?" Kara pounced on this. "You see?"

Righteously she stood tall and announced with authority of a woman who'd lived her entire life on Earth, exposed daily to the societal conditioning of the female gender, the entitlement of men, as well as the expectation that part of her job as a girl and woman is to prop men and boys up and make them feel good about themselves, whatever they'd done. Not to mention taking blame for their ill choices.

"This world is in far more danger from its own male population than anything else."

"Kara," Alex's usual voice of concern and condescension came from the side wall, "you're creeping me out right now. You kind of sound like your Aunt Astra...and that is frightening."

Appalled that her sister seemed to think all this was okay, she gave Alex a withering glare.

Maggie corrected Alex almost immediately. "It's more frightening that she's right," Maggie's voice was one of weary experience.

"And that you're not immediately taking my side," Kara was visibly hurt by this fact, but kept her distance from her sister as if she could now no longer trust her. As if she'd be unpredictable in her apathy to protect innocent people.

Maggie slid down the nearest wall till she was crouching on the floor.

"Did you know there are schools now that have mandated a policy where if a girl is asked out by a boy on a date or to the prom she cannot say no to him?" She waited for that to sink in before continuing. "Know why they implement this policy? To keep boys from having a reason to shoot up the school. The latest school shooting this year all you heard was, "If the girls had been nicer to him, instead of rejecting him, this wouldn't have happened."

The look on Alex's face turned from confident, to looking as if she might vomit.

Kara picked up Maggie's train of thought and continued, looking directly at her adopted sister. "You've lived your whole life on this planet, in this country. You're so used to men and boys behaving this way..." her voice trailed off as she remembered,

"But I'm not. I wasn't."

" When I first came here, and for years, I didn't want anything to do with the males of your species. They were frightening, dangerous. They took joy in hurting and humiliating the girls at school at every opportunity- and no one said a word against it. But, when the girls would get upset about it, they were immediately told to calm down, or worse told that boys abuse them because they like them. Abusive behavior being encouraged and equated with love and caring for someone else? That behavior would be inexcusable on Krypton!"

Alex's gaze was downward now, and she'd allowed her angled hair to cover her face. Was she ashamed? Guilty? Or just didn't like hearing the truth, Kara was unsure. But one thing was certain, the conversation was making her sister uncomfortable.

Sawyer pushed herself up from the floor then, took a few steps forward and looked at Kara with genuine curiosity. "Your home planet wasn't like this? The men there didn't beat and rape women and children?"

Supergirl's blue gray eyes widened, she was horrified by the very thought. As if to protect herself from even the idea, she body instantly moved itself backward from Maggie. "Of course not!"

"On this planet," Kara spoke again, "women are conditioned to accept abuse, conditioned to remain oppressed by men."

"I am not conditioned to accept abuse!" Alex's head shot up, her red-brown hair falling backward from her face. She stared aghast and furious that anyone, let alone her own sister who had seen her in action, putting her life in danger daily, could think that.

Maggie stepped in then.

"The oldest hate crime on this planet isn't against homosexuals, or male minorities, it is against women."

Gently, Maggie strode across the metal floor towards Alex. Lovingly, but perplexed, she lifted Alex's chin, held it between her thumb and forefinger, before continuing.

"I can't believe a woman as strong as you are," she began, her voice soft, "isn't aware of the brainwashing all us girls go through. You can see it in the last election. Why do you think women would choose to vote for a man who has stated point blank that he abuses women?" She released Alex's face and let out a frustrated sigh. "I can see I need to direct you to some websites and take you to the nearest women's rally. You can be as strong as you want, physically, but that doesn't take away from the detrimental mental conditioning you grew up with in this society."

"I don't have any mental conditioning."

Kara stared at them all. Maggie and Alex now in the center of the room, Hank standing somewhat apart, hands on hips, simply watching. Where the hell was Maggie going with this? It had nothing to do with Kara striking that man. Supergirl needed to get back out there, now. She didn't need her super friends group to find her crimes now. The crimes she was looking for wouldn't be on police radar, not until it was too late, anyway. It would be up to her ears alone to listen and hear these crimes in action.

"Really?" Maggie smirked, enjoying this. Her tone got Kara's attention back to the room. It seemed as if her sister were about to be proven wrong. Kara decided she'd stay and watch, it might be worth it.

"What do you say when a man says "I'm sorry" to you?"

Agent Danvers shrugged. "It's okay," the answer was automatic.

"And what does that tell him? Think! Words have a lot of power, Alex." Maggie was still locking eyes with Alex as if willing her to finally see what she and Kara were both well aware of.

"That... it's... okay." She spoke the words slowly, knowing even as she spoke them that they indicated that both Kara and Maggie realized something she hadn't.

"That they can do it again," Maggie tone was calculated dark, and honest. Kara nodded.

Kara bit her lips. It was possible it might be worthwhile to stay for this. But only a short while.

Already knowing the answer Kara asked Maggie,

"And what would happen if she didn't say "it's okay" in response to a man's apology?"

Officer Sawyer made a single laughing cough of a noise, and smiled as if Kara had cracked a joke. "Or... why does she have to look apologetic when a man asks for a date or a dance and she's going to turn them down?" She shrugged. "It's all the same. Why can't she just say no and leave it at that?"

"Because by the time she'd hit middle school, she'd learned from experience and the media, that making a boy or man upset is dangerous. You have to protect a boy's feelings constantly, to protect yourself from harm."

She drew in a breath and suddenly looked defeated.

"Because if she was lucky, he'd just scream at her about what a bitch she was. If she wasn't lucky, he'd hit, beat, rape or even kill her. It happens every day."

Maggie sighed and shook her head sadly, her formerly bright eyes looking at the metal floor, "If I had a dollar for every time we got a call from a hospital, or a woman and heard it was because she'd provoked him by saying no to him, or turning him down for a date? I could be living on a tropical island now enjoying my retirement."

Head cocked to the side and looking ready for a fight Sawyer looked at both Alex and Hank. "Are you gonna tell me it's not true? Or, "all men aren't like that?"

Hank spoke first, but slowly and with surprising respect. "I don't think I have a place in this conversation."

Alex's voice was almost a whisper when she spoke. "No, I know it's true. I'd like to pretend it isn't though."

Maggie sighed wistfully, but her jaw hardened as if she were trying very hard to get a rein on her emotions. Softly, as if only speaking to herself she added, "I can't count the times I've thought of what a better world this would be if women were the ones in power, and men were the ones humored and 'allowed' to contribute in office. If the police were all or mostly women, the judges were women, the people in Congress, the Senate, the White House were all women..."

"If a group of women were allowed to police and dictate the health and reproductive rights of men," Alex smirked.

"Okay that's enough of this!" Tired of all this talk, when she could be out there helping more people Kara strode forward. "This Earth Feminism 101 for Alex's sole benefit isn't getting us anywhere! The people of this planet need my help! Yet I'm standing here with you people! I have to stop these people!"

"How?" Alex asked.

The martian director of the DEO laughed. "Didn't you see the footage? By taking matters that should be handled by police into her own hands."

"You disagree with this?" Alex asked him. "With what she did?"

"Don't you?"

"Not...entirely."

"This is not our job, Agent Danvers."

"No, but it is mine," Supergirl answered. "If I can't fight for the safety of innocent people, who will?"

"But how are you going to help them?"

It frustrated her that she didn't know. "I don't know! But I will! I just will! I'll figure something out!"

"Killing them is out of the question," Hank reminded her, semi-helpfully.

Maggie held her chin in her hand and shook her head, doubtfully she replied. "I don't know... my father used to say, there's only one way to stop a pedophile from hurting children-"

"Lemme guess," Hank looked sidelong at her, "the answer is not going to be compassionate psycho-therapy." His voice rumbled through the air reverberating against the walls.

"You dig a six foot hole, put the pedophile in it, then fill the hole back in."

Hank rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Lovely."

Kara sighed, frustrated.

"Okay, so I can't kill them, I won't kill them. But... it's not a crime to hit them, to make them think twice before putting their hands on a woman or child again." She nodded to herself, happy with her lawful compromise.

Alex looked at her, wincing, her dark eyebrows balancing in the middle of a scrunched up forehead. "Actually... it is."

Kara stared at her, baffled. "Nobody's pressed charges against me-"

"Yet," both Maggie and Alex answered.

Maggie nodded. "It's assault."

"But these men do it!" She cried. "And they get away with it! All the time!"

"Even when a girl or woman is covered in bruises , when the evidence is right there-"

"Nothing happens," Maggie's voice was a low growl of internalized rage. "I could mention the dark side of the Me Too movement," she offered, "but I think I'll save that for another time.

"Again, not helping the situation Officer Sawyer. We cannot have Supergirl metting out justice to everyone she thinks has wronged someone! We have laws for a reason, courts of justice for a reason."

"A completely inadequate justice system created to favor males over females, and ensure that unequal balance is maintained," Maggie was ignoring Hank again and clearly rattling a laundry list of societal wrongs, " overworked social workers who would normally be removing endangered children from their homes, and a government, a whole planet, run by men who benefit by keeping women oppressed. And benefit even more by convincing the women to believe they aren't oppressed, that in this century they are equal to men, when all the evidence points otherwise."

"I wouldn't kill them," Kara interupted, too impatient to let this debate continue. "I can't hit them, so what can I do?" She looked at Maggie.

"Legally, you can do next to nothing. You cannot do anything unless you suspect or better yet see actual proof that someone is being harmed. You call and report it to social services, who will take maybe a month or so to look into it or send police..."

"By that time the person could be dead." Alex was staring straight at her.

"Help me," she appealed to her sister, grabbing both Alex's hands in her own, "help me help the people in this city that need it the most!"

"I"... her mouth stayed open but no sound came out, "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Frustrated and frankly disgusted by her sister's lack of action or ideas, Kara dropped her sister's hands like they were kryptonite, and began pacing angrily around the room like a caged animal.

"Don't forget." Maggie called out, more for Kara's benefit than Alex's, "educating women, helping them realize the myriad of ways they've been conditioned since birth to accept a lesser role in society, a role that serves men, and keeps women vulnerable, accepting blame when they are blameless; is one of the best things we can do."

Supergirl kept pacing and rolled her eyes, answering back with contempt, "It's the very least thing we can do! And meaningless when people's lives are in danger!" The last sentence came out like a roar as she continued to pace the room, only stopping once, to punch her fist against the metal wall.

Alex had been watching her sister, finally able to put words to a vague idea she'd had. She looked at Maggie and hissed,

"Can you imagine having the physical powers that she does and not being able to use them to protect vulnerable people?"

Maggie raised both eyebrows. "Maybe you grew up in Happyland USA," she paused and winked at her because she knew Alex hadn't...exactly. "But I've thought quite often about what women would do if they were able to physically overpower the men in their lives."

"But, if you were her?" She looked pointedly at her sister, whose chest and shoulders were heaving with rage and unused adrenaline, and as she'd finally had it with all of them, stormed past Maggie and Alex to the door and began running down the hall to the nearest exit.

Once Kara was out of sight, Maggie made a face and answered Alex. "I'd kill a loooot of people."

Alex lowered her gaze to the floor, "Me too," she whispered.

A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	2. Chapter 2

"Miss Grant!"

There was no physical response to the call. Cat Grant remained seated at her desk, undisturbed, staring casually reading through information at her desk. As if people actually yelled at her on a daily basis and she'd become immune. Finally, with a slow, deliberate breath in, she spoke.

"That," she took a deliberate breath in, not taking her eyes off her reading, "sounds like a demand for attention," she exhaled and paused, "not a request," Cat Grant finished, her words clipped but leisurely, like one used to power, not looking up from the ipad in front of her. She inhaled and added, "I do not respond to shouting, either."

Supergirl flew through the open window and landed in front of Miss Grant's desk.

That got her attention.

Her mouth opened in surprise, it was undeniable, but then she recovered herself, taking off her reading glasses, puckering her mouth in distaste and glaring at Supergirl.

Kara panicked. The way Cat was looking at her now, was exactly the way she looked at Kara Danvers every single day.

Maybe I forgot to wear my suit? She glanced down, afraid, but found she was indeed wearing it.

Cocking her head to the side, Miss Grant then looked up at her with a half grin on her face. "Well, here you are, Supergirl, come into my office like Peter Pan flying into Wendy Darling's room."

Kara's eyes lit up, and she barely suppressed a smile of glee. Peter Pan had instantly become her most beloved book on Earth- once she'd learned to read English well, that is.

Miss Grant took a deep breath in through her nose, and tried to look as if she were looking down at Supergirl.

"What," she finally spoke, "can I do for you?"

Kara felt a lot less like Supergirl in that moment and more like inept Kara Danvers, loathed assistant. Finally she steeled herself, pushed her shoulders back and reminded herself that she was not Kara Danvers at that moment, she was Supergirl. And Supergirl was respected by all, including Cat Grant. With authority she replied,

"I need your help." She was not reluctant to ask for this, the way the humans of Earth often were. Asking for help and being the one asked for help was an honor on Krypton.

Cat's blonde eyebrows raised in unison. "My help?"

Kara wasted no time. "I need to speak to the people of the city, the way you do, so that everyone can see and hear me."

Cat Grant stood up. A doubtful and suspicious pair of eyes met Kara's. "And what is it that you'd like to say?" Her voice was icy on the word 'is'.

Kara was shocked. She'd just expected that Cat Grant would just have someone immediately point a camera at her. She hadn't expected to have her motives questioned.

"Close your mouth, you look like a fish," Cat announced.

She looked Supergirl up and down. "You didn't simply expect me to point a camera your way and let you speak, did you?" She raised one eye brow. "I am the leader of the largest media outlet in this city, I can't have you spouting off, in my building, in my office, on my television station and website, where you clearly represent me, without knowing what you're going to say, now can I?"

Kara's mouth was open again. But then the image of that hateful man's face flashed before her eyes, and allowed her words to be strong and urgent.

"I want to speak to the public, let the women and children in this city who are being abused know that I am here for them, and want to help them."

As if she didn't care, or hadn't heard her at all, Miss Grant walked away from her desk and continued to walk casually around sparse but richly decorated office. As she did so, she spun the frame of her glasses in her mouth muttering, "Don't forget boys and men. If you don't say that, they'll say you're sexist." She sighed and added, "even though statistically men and boys are over ten times less likely to be abused, certainly sexually abused, if that's what you're getting at, than women and girls."

After a moment of silence, she asked Supergirl,

"How do you plan on helping them?"

She answered honestly. "I don't know."

But," she paused, "I want to let the people know that I care, and that I am trying to help them. Sometimes knowing that there's someone out there who cares about you can help a lot."

Cat Grant squinted at her and took several steps towards her until they were nose to nose.

"You know a lot about needing help, do you, Supergirl?"

Kara felt goosebumps forming on her skin. Something was going very wrong.

Cat Grant continued, not moving a millimeter.

"Do you know what it's like to be smaller, weaker than everyone else? To be around people so strong they can and do break your bones like a Thanksgiving wishbone? To know that absolutely no one is coming to help you?"

Kara opened her mouth to answer but Grant spun on her heel and walked away as if she'd become disinterested with the topic. Her tone changing to nonchalant, she added as a throw-away,

"Of course that's just a plot line for any lifetime movie, but it serves the point."

"Still..." Grant paused and looked back at Supergirl.

"What do you know about suffering?"

An answer came to Kara immediately. "I know what it's like to be alone."

She paused for a long time, thinking. "I know what it's like to watch people be hurt and not be able to help them. And I do know what it's like to have your arm broken-"

Miss Grant let out a single laugh and shook her head.

"By a thing, no doubt. It's quite another story for a person to intentionally break your arm than it is to break it skiing or bumping into a building mid-flight."

Kara sighed loudly. This was not going the way she'd hoped at all.

"Miss Grant, I want to help!"

"And that's the only thing you have to offer? A desire to help? Or, at least offer words of...encouragement albeit a lack of action?"

"At the moment, legally, yes."

Cat's eyes opened wider at the statement and she regarded Supergirl as if they were both in on some secret.

"At the moment, legally, yes," Miss Grant repeated her words slowly while staring at Kara and smiling like a Cheshire cat. Then she walked back around towards her adding, "I see you've done at least part of your homework. As much as I'm sure you'd like to fly off and laser off the genitalia of rapists, you realize you can't do that," she paused ominously again,... legally."

Cat laughed then. "You could do that, couldn't you?"

"I don't know if my aim would be that precise," Kara wanted to laugh, but didn't.

"Oh," Cat threw out a dismissive hand and was walking away from Supergirl, towards her office door, "don't worry about that. Many women have done the same, with a lot less precision."

"Will!" She snapped, "Get a camera in here!"

Kara jumped at the sudden screech, and realized Cat Grant staring at Winn. Quickly she ran to the door. "I believe she's speaking to you, young man."

"Oh," Winn fumbled at his desk, then clumsily stood up.

"Uh.. Miss Grant? You know I'm not a camera person, I'm an IT-"

"You're an it," Cat interrupted him waving a hand in the air, "I know, I don't care. You did this before, you'll do it again. All you do is point a camera for crying out loud, how hard can that be?"

Winn headed off to find the nearest camera. Cat Grant looked directly at Kara's empty desk and screeched,

"Kira!"

Winn was back in a flash.

"Um, I think she's on break?"

Kara almost put a hand to her face, pained by Winn's lack of acting skill.

"Is she?" Cat Grant smiled a frightening smile.

"Uhhh," Winn glanced at Kara, then quickly away, "Yes I think so Miss Grant, but I could probably find her for you."

"Mmm." she nodded. "I'll bet."

Kara watched Miss Grant's shoulders begin to shake. It took a moment for her to realize that Miss Grant was laughing. Frightened, Kara stepped away.

Then in a fleet matter of moments, Winn had the camera hooked up facing Miss Grant's desk.

"Go, go," Cat pushed Supergirl towards her desk. "Do your little speech, so we can get this do-gooding over with."

It was at that moment Kara realized she had not prepared for this. She actually had not prepared something to say. She was so focused only on the need to help, the need to speak out, she didn't think of any small details, like what to say. Especially when she went on national television and spoke to the world.

"Um, uh, yeah,yes" she smiled to hide her nerves, "of course." She forced herself to walk over to the center of Miss Grant's desk, realizing her mind was completely blank. What was she going to say?

She swallowed hard. Winn gave her an encouraging smile. Kara took a deep breath in and released it, trying to steady her nerves, which were definitely not made of steel.

When she could hear the words that man had been screaming, she knew she'd be okay. She'd simply speak the truth. She nodded at Winn. He flipped a switch then pointed at her.

"People of National City-" Kara stopped herself. That wasn't who she wanted to address.

"Women and girls of National City"

Cat Grant slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned audibly.

Kara licked her lips and tried again. Anything is better than nothing.

"I want you to know that you are not alone. I know that you cower in the dark. I know that people who save they love you are hurting you. I know it seems like nobody cares and no one will help you."

"Oh no," she heard Cat mutter, "don't go there, Supergirl. You can't save them all. Don't promise what you can't deliver."

Kara was standing in the middle of Miss Grant's office, but she couldn't see it. She knew both Cat and Winn were there, but even with her superior vision, she couldn't see them either. Nerves kept her from seeing anything but the camera directly in front of her.

"I can't save you all, but there are people in this community, in this country that want to help you. They may not always have the resources to do it," she admitted angrily, "but they want to help you."

She took another deep breath, picturing one battered little girl or woman who might be online right now, or watching tv and seeing this. Seeing her and needing help.

"I want you to know that I see you. And I want to hear from you." She didn't know where this idea came from, but before she knew what was happening the next sentence flew out of her mouth.

"Write me a letter, and attach it to a balloon. A helium balloon or a big air filled one. If you let it go into the air, I'll see it and be able to read your letter. I care. And I want to hear your story."

"Get their address," Cat muttered.

"Put your address on it, if you can. You don't have to include your name, but it would help. And if I get your balloon, I'll try my best and get you help."

Supergirl took another breath in and made a concious effort to still her shaking. She knew why she was shaking too. It was because taking about abuse in this country on this planet, was seem as the most shameful and weak thing you could do. In the United States it was more forgiveable to be an actual rapist than it was to be a rape victim speaking out.

"You deserve to be safe. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to live your life without shaking in terror when you hear footsteps heading towards you. You deserve to be safe from whoever is hurting you. And whoever is hurting you deserves to be in jail. For life."

She looked at Winn and he turned off the camera.

"I might not have added that last part," Cat spoke. "In fact, I wouldn't have said... well frankly just about everything you did say. For your sake you better hope "it's the thought that counts".

Kara moved to the window to leave, wondering if she'd done the completely wrong thing.

"Oh, and Supergirl?"

She paused at the windowsill and turned back to Miss Grant.

Cat smiled her biggest fake smile. "While you're flying around out there, could you see if there are any extra case workers, social workers, and therapists? And also orphanages and domestic violence shelters. Where do you think these people are going to go, once you've saved them?"

It felt like someone drained her face of all life.

"But don't worry," the fake smile continued, although now she seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, "you've helped at least one person today! I'll be going to bed tonight happy in the knowledge that I am not you."

Now she knew. She'd done the exact wrong thing. She could hear Hank now, "What were you thinking?"

She flew through the afternoon sky, not even caring that she was supposed to go back and play the charade of Kara Danvers. She flew right to her apartment, where she immediately closed every curtain, turned off every light and threw herself into bed, cape and all, covering herself with a comforter to escape from this horribly unjust world.

Several hours later...

"Kara! Kara, wake up!"

A hand was shaking her- hard.

Kara put a hand to her face, realizing it was only Alex who'd obviously used her emergency key to get inside her apartment.

"What?" She groaned, still half asleep, wanting to get back to being fully asleep.

"I cannot believe you! If you'd bothered to run this past me, or, I don't know anyone, you would have been told that this was a terrible idea !Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She muttered the words sleepily and yawned.

She heard Alex taking loud, angry steps away from her.

"It's two o'clock in the morning," Alex spoke again, seeming annoyed. "And I and the DEO have been watching the skies all afternoon. Nothing happened. So we went home. I started to make supper for Maggie and me around 8pm when it was just starting to get dark outside. We ate, then went to bed. I got up about an hour ago, looked outside, then high-tailed it here. Now GET UP!"

She flung one of the curtains open as Kara sat up. "Maybe this will refresh your memory."

Kara blinked, bleary eyed, then yawned, and stood up rubbing her eyes. Still half asleep she stumbled towards Alex at the window.

At the window Kara gasped.

"You remember now?" Alex was glaring at her.

Outside her bedroom window Kara could see balloons, many, many balloons. She opened the window and looked out up and down the street, then flew out higher to see better.

Shocked she spoke as if in a dream, "There's hundreds of them!"

A/N Thank you for reading and for reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you have not read Chapter 2 yet, or had difficulty accessing it, give it another shot. I've gotten a lot of messages saying people couldn't find it. It should be there now. Please review it so that I know you've seen it. I don't want to go past this chapter until I know everyone has read and reviewed and it ready to move forward with the story. Because it's going to start getting dark. Consider the rest of this story to have an on-going trigger warning starting now. If you'd like to submit a letter to SG feel free to send it to me. All identifying features will be removed before publication. AND DON"T FORGET TO HIT THE SUBSCRIBE BUTTON! Otherwise this story will get lost amongst the masses. I try to update regularly, but am not always able.

It was finally dark and quiet.

The sound of the TV was gone. No heavy footsteps or swearing or stumbling down the hall. Still, Lilly lay still as stone, tense, waiting. Because you never could be sure. He'd had enough to drink, but that hadn't stopped him on other nights.

Finally she heard his bedroom door slam with a bang. She heard him throwing himself on the bed in another drunken stupor as the bed springs and wooden slats gave their familiar creaking and groaning sounds of protest.

Her body lay still and heavy, as if filled with concrete. She listened, too afraid to move a muscle. To afraid to even think. She lay there motionless and tried to be invisible, unnoticeable. She lay stock still for nearly an hour, until she heard the familiar sounds of her father's buzz saw snoring. With luck, he wouldn't wake for hours.

But still, Lilly lay motionless, frozen with fear and self-preservation. She barely dared to breath. She'd gotten good at needing little oxygen. She could lie still and heavy as a stone and hold her breath, but he never believed she was dead, as often as he said he'd wished she was, but "I'm not that lucky."

She waited and waited and waited under her cotton bed sheet and in her pink nightgown. She waited until the snores slowed, became more even, indicating that her father was in a more deep sleep. She wasn't sure if he was drunk enough to stay that way. There had been plenty of times she'd thought he'd be in a dead sleep till morning, only to find out how wrong she was, and to be punished for it.

After two hours, she used one finger to slowly, ever so slowly, begin to peel the sheet back. Getting it off her legs was essential. It could cause too much noise if she simply kicked them off. Once the covers gave her enough room to swing her legs to the side of the bed, she gently, keeping the weight of one hand, then another near her head, so that lifting it up off the bed wouldn't cause a noticeable shift in weight- something that might make a noise.

Then, with the same ginger care, she gently rolled to her side. Being still certain to keep an adequate amount of weight on the bed she semi-sat up. Then pushing hard with her right arm to maintain weight, she swung both legs off the bed till they touched the floor. Then gently, so slowly, she used her hands and feet to scoot creep herself down off the bed and onto the floor.

With a worried glance at the door, Lilly stopped and listened. She still heard regular snoring from her father's bedroom..

She sighed and turned back around. Kneeling on the carpeted floor, there was just enough light from the streetlights to cast a small beam of light across the room. Enough for Lilly to see the tiny hidden picture of Supergirl.

She'd found a picture of Supergirl in her school's library in a magazine called Discovery Kids. Apparently they'd done some interview about her. And even though it was against the law, and wrong, two things she knew Supergirl wouldn't like, Lilly took a small scissors out of her backpack and in the back of the library where no one could see, cut out a tiny picture of Supergirl, not bigger than a 3x5 photo some of the kids ordered on school picture day. She decided not to take the bigger photos or anything that would mess up the story. Because there might be another girl just like her who needed someone, and had found Supergirl to be that someone. Consistent. Kind. Protecting. Like a mother should be. Or, any parent really.

As carefully and seriously as if she were stealing a gold bar from Fort Knox, Lilly slid the photo into the side of her folder, then put the folder in her backpack. As if she were merely tidying up her school supplies, she put her scissors back in her case, sticking it inside the backpack as well.

As she walked to the library exit, which did have alarms, Lilly felt faint. But she had to have something, anything to give her some hope. To give her a person that might like her, might smile at her. Might think she was a nice girl.

She tried not to breath too hard as she stepped closer to the library alarms. The librarian, Ms. Katz saw Lilly and waved. "Have a good night, Lilly!"

Lilly forced a toothy grin back at her. "You too, Ms. Katz!"

"I'll let you know when the next sci-fi books have come in," she confided, still smiling."You're such a good reader for your age, and those books typically have the best writing in them. They'll really help you to write better the more you read them!"

"Thanks," she smiled genuinely then.

Then, breaking eye contact like the criminal she was, little Lilly, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and prepared to face prison time for the one person that she loved.

She hadn't even realized she'd walked through the gates until the announcement, "All students not involved in tonight's after school sports event, please leave the school now. No student not on Coach Dworkin's list will be allowed to stay after the office is closed. Please gather your supplies and leave now. Lights will be turned off in all classrooms and hallways in ten minutes."

By the end of the announcement, Lilly was halfway down the glossy hallway, holding her backpack like it was a bomb. As she walked the mile and a half home, she held it the same way, even though it gave her a horrible stabbing pain between her shoulder blades. But it was worth it. Any hardship was worth it if it brought Supergirl into her life.

Walking up the steps to her house, she carefully balanced the heavy bag in one hand, and reached for her house key with the other. She put the key in the lock, turned it to the right with her free hand, then pushed the wood door open with her body weight.

She'd barely let go of the door handle when she was shoved against a wall inside the house. She cried out in shock and fear. Was it a burglar? Was she about to die?

Supergirl help me! She thought with all her might.

But when her blurred vision cleared she saw the face of her father scowling down at her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He barked. "You're an hour late from school! There was no one to get the mail, and for all I know, the house could have been broken into! Or the mail stolen! Do you know what people these days do with mail? Do you want me to have my identity stolen?"

She didn't know how someone could steal someone else's identity, but before she could think what it might be like with a father whose identity was gone, her father grabbed the strap of her backpack and threw it down the hall.

"Don't feed me some bull shit about working after school or studying at the library either, I wasn't born yesterday!"

Then he shoved her forward, forcing her towards the kitchen. "I come home from work and there's no food in the kitchen. It's your job to make a palatable supper, Lilly. All the work I do all day busting my hump for a measly dollar so's I can keep a roof over your head and clothes on your back! All I ask is to have to some food and some peace and quiet at the end of the day." His red face was pressed against hers. "Is that too much to ask?" He bellowed. "Where is your respect for your father?"

Lilly winced and closed her eyes, backing away at the intensity of the noise.

"Get in there and make some god-damn f*cking supper! And I mean NOW!"

He picked Lilly up and threw her into the kitchen, where she landed on her side with a cracking noise, then slid across the linoleum part way.

As long as he doesn't go through my backpack, it's okay. Just don't go through my backpack!

But now she had the picture carefully taped up on the wall, behind the side of her desk. A place she knew her father'd never look.

She carefully edged along the carpet, not daring to walk and risk a creaking floor, until she was at her desk. There was only a tiny crack to look through and see the tiny Supergirl picture.

Lilly sighed, clasped her hands together and prayed in a whisper.

"Supergirl, please save me. Tell me what to do. How can I stay here? No one at school notices or cares. It hurts to walk. I'm afraid what he'll do next. I can't make him happy. It's hard to make food when you have to climb up onto the counter just to reach it. And sometimes the stove burners don't work right and I have to get them to light. I'm so scared the gas will catch my hair on fire. I told my dad but he doesn't care. He says I'm old enough to make meals."

She sighed, closing her eyes tighter and clasping her hands harder together.

"Please Supergirl. Help me."

"Amen."

You've read. Thank you. Now review. And then subscribe.


	4. Chapter 4

"What's going on here?" The voice came from someone who was clearly failing to act like they cared, and act like an authority figure. This was the second most senior staff person on duty that night.

"She was trying to call a friend of hers." The other staff member, a thin blond haired girl not much older than the girls there, answered, looked at Amelia as if she'd just committed homicide, holding up the communal cell phone in her hand as evidence.

"Restriction!" The older woman screamed, yanking the phone out of her fellow staff's hand as if to make a point. Then she looked at Amelia. "I know you're new here, but that is no excuse."

As much as it hurt her still-bruised eyes, Amelia stared at them in shock. The staff member that had just yanked the communal cell phone out of her hand and started screaming at her about it not being allowed.

Amelia wasn't about to put up with this bullshit on her first day there.

"This isn't a prison," she was incredulous at the fact the place seemed to run like one. She put a hand to her hip and cocked her head to the side, making her red hair fall behind her shoulders as she did so. "I can get more than one phone call a day." She spoke with authority because she was right. Only prisoners were only allowed one call a day. She'd had that 'one call'; sadly it was only due to the judge's order that she confirm she had reached the destination she'd been assigned. So the call had been to his office.

"Not according to the house manager." This staff member laid a hand on her husky hip and stared at Amelia as if to say "what are you gonna do about it?" She was taller than Amelia and outweighed her. She was in charge here. To prove it she added, "I have seniority on second shift. I'm in charge now."

Amelia wasn't intimidated. She stared right back at the woman and answered with the authority of rightness, "It says nothing about limiting phone calls in the manual." Amelia wasn't stupid. She knew her rights, and she knew the house rights and rules, she'd memorized them all with the first hour of being dropped off that afternoon by her new social worker.

"That manual doesn't run this house, I do." The bigger staff smiled a gloating smile at her, her face inches from Amelia's.

"But-"

"All right," the woman held up both hands, as if she'd tried and tried to reason with thick-headed Amelia and failed, "that's a month worth of restriction! No TV, no phone calls, no trips outdoors except school and church, no internet access."

This was insane. Absolutely insane. A home for abused girls, yet it seemed more like hell.

"All I did was try to call my friend!" Livid, she let her voice raise to a scream of outrage so that it echoed through the entire home.

"It doesn't matter," the younger staff member smiled a chipper fake smile, "it's time to go to church anyway."

"I really don't think God gives two shits about me," Amelia muttered, still pissed at being refused to call her best friend. "Otherwise he wouldn't have given me a drug addict father who likes to rape me, a mother that's an alcoholic and lets him, and a brother whose favorite extra curricular activity is to beat me senseless and tell me how this is all my fault."

"A sob story isn't going to help you," the woman was smirking at her, and it was clear she was just barely holding in laughter. "Regardless," the staff member (Amelia never bothered to learn their names ),shrugged her shoulders and gave no act of care to the statement Amelia'd just made, "you are required to attend church here."

"It isn't mandatory," Amelia answered back, "and I'm pretty sure it's against federal law to force religion upon a person. Also, it isn't in the handbook."

The handbook was a long list of responsibilities and the rights she was to be granted as a resident, as well as what staff were and were not allowed to do. So far in one day, she'd watched insipid staff break approximately 25 of the rules, then the house manager showed up and broke the rest of them.

This "Home for Abused and Neglected Girls" made the broken and abusive homes these girls came from look like paradise.

Just then a cherub looking girl with tan skin and green eyes marched rapidly down the hallway towards them, grabbed Amelia roughly by the arm and pulled her aside while saying aloud, "Don't worry about her, we just have to get her adjusted to the place. You two can go back to your facebook, we'll have her in order by the time it's time to leave."

She smiled a big understanding smile at the staff, then yanked Amelia away from the two, who were already walking back into the office and closing the door. Amelia was steered down the hall towards the girls' rooms.

"What's wrong with you!" Amelia yelled.

"Shut up if you know what's good for you," she hissed, "and follow me." Without slowing down she added, "You remember my name right? I'm Gloria." Already she was pulling Amelia down the hall where a group of 10 other girls were standing, glaring at her.

Anticipating their disapproval of her behavior, and her facts, Amelia defended herself immediately.

"If the state knew what was really going on here, this place would be shut down."

The girls laughed as if she'd told a great joke.

"This isn't a 'home for girls'," a girl with a buzz cut sneered, "it's a prison, and we're the slave labor."

A tiny blond haired girl with braids spoke next. "It's true. The home is paid over $100 a day each day a girl stays here. I did the math, this place banks nearly 100 grand a month. Add to that the "crafts" we're forced to make every week, which they sell to "help the poor needy girls' home".

Amelia made a mental note that this little girl was the smartest of the bunch.

The tall redhead, who Amelia thought she remembered introducing herself as Allison, scoffed and interrupted the smaller girl's speech. "Those piece of shit Gods' Eyes and vases go for $25. And the bitch of a District Supervisor always manages to guilt some rich person to buy them, and offers them a tour of our poor facility. Always for when we are not home."

"Which is also why there's that wall full of DVD and books," the girl with the thick glasses and a long black braid rolled her eyes, "so that the state and rich donors think we're allowed to use those things- which we aren't. Because reading a book is against the rules when you're on restriction." This girl sighed heavily and inhaled before adding, "And we are all always on restriction."

"They own the building so there's no rent to pay," another dark haired girl Amelia thought was named Jade continued, "the government pays for food, everything is tax deductible and because this place is a "non-profit" , they all laughed, "they get discounts on everything."

"Look, if you want to survive here and not get sent to a place that's worse," another girl about Amelia's age with coal black skin and steely eyes held her by the shoulders, meeting her gaze earnestly, "and there are places that are worse. There's places that are old prisons, and your room is a cell they lock at night. Because there's too many kids like us, and not enough 'nice' group homes and orphanages like this one to go around... you better just shut up and take all the shit they throw at you. They hate their jobs here and they hate us. Even when they break every rule and get away with it, when they blame you for shit you didn't do, when you get put on restriction for three months for opening a window- take it," she advised. "Just shut your mouth and take it. Because there are worse places than here, and I'm not talking about the house some case worker just got you away from."

This was almost too much to take. Amelia staggered backward slightly in the cramped hall, trying to take this all in. Trying and failing to make logical sense of the illogical.

"Jesus Christ! What the hell else is wrong with this place?"

The little girl with the braids laughed. "I think she wants The List!"

"All right," a girl with short brown hair and overalls shrugged one shoulder.

"Look kid, we're gonna go through every stupid insane rule they do the most, so it won't take you by surprise." She pointed at the red headed girl, "Allison, start!" She ordered.

"They can go to the bathroom whenever they want. We can't."

The girl with black hair and thick glasses took up next. "We're not allowed to go through their personal belongings. They search our rooms and read our diaries every single day."

"Wakanda, go!" She looked at the dark skinned girl who'd told Amelia there were worse places than this.

"Shut up before I put my fist in your mouth," she answered without heat, and took her turn with the others.

"They get to be on their iphones on facebook and messaging all day, when they're forbidden to use those devices when they're supposed to be watching us. We're not allowed to even have phones and are forbidden to even go on the internet."

"We're searched before we go to school. They are allowed to lift up our bras under our shirts to see if we have anything concealed in our bras. We can't even look at them without getting in trouble.

Every girl had something to say. Amelia just stared feeling as if she were floating out of her body. And they continued. There faces became a blur as Amelia grappled with the rules they listed.

"We're not allowed to have boyfriends."

"We can't go over to a friend's house."

"We can't be involved in any after school activities."

If you make a phone call, they listen to it.

"We're not allowed to watch Punky Brewster here."

"Why not?" Amelia muttered the question, dimly remembering watching the show on one of the 'oldies' stations at her home.

"If we watch it, we're put on restriction." The girl she knew now was definitely Allison answered with a roll of her eyes.

"Restriction, by the way, is just like our every day lives here. No TV, no internet, no phone calls, no talking."

"But why can't we watch it?"

"Because," the dark skinned girl- now Amelia remembered her name! Michelle!, mimicked the house manager's sickeningly sweet fake voice, "it gives false hope that someday one of us will be adopted or fostered out."

Jade answered back. "The only thing we're "allowed" to watch on TV is the news. And that is because we are forced to watch it every day."

"Watching The Rescuers without the ending and Annie before she gets taken to rich guys house is much more realistic, if you wanna know."

"Are we allowed to watch those?" Amelia asked the question with more than a little apprehension.

"No. They foster the idea that living here is similar to those living situations."

"But they are," Amelia insisted. "Horrible living conditions, forced child labor.."

"They don't care," Michelle was quick to shut her up. "Back to the list, girls!"

"If medicine you take makes you sick they still make you take it."

"They'll wait a month before taking you to the doctor to get new medicine that doesn't make you sick."

"Ooh!" A girl with curly black hair raised both her hands eagerly. "Tell her about Kelsey!"

"One girl they kept giving waay too much ADHD meds," Gloria, the girl who'd pulled Amelia away spoke now with a mix of sadness and helpless rage, "and it made her heart beat super fast. Think they gave a damn? Nope. They waited until she had an actual heart attack- at ten years old! Before they lowered her dose to something normal. What they gave her, a skinny 50 pound kid, was the dose you'd give to a 300 pound boy!"

Amelia was gobsmacked. "Jesus."

"They make us eat the most processed, unhealthiest crap from Wal-Mart, because it's the cheapest and then will lecture you about good eating habits."

Amelia stared at them all, holding her head, feeling as if the room were spinning, or maybe the planet's gravity had increased, or possibly she'd been sent to another dimension where cruelty from your saviors was normal.

"This is all completely insane. The way they've treated me in the one day I've been here is insane! How you live here is insane! Can I petition the court to let me go back with my abusive family? It's better than this place."

"That is negative thinking," Michelle smirked at her. "You need to change how you think and be more grateful. She imitated the cheery voice of the callus house manager, "Negative thinking creates a negative reality."

"So it's my own negative thinking that caused my brother to beat me and my father to rape me all the time?"

"Yup." Michelle nodded with a smile.

"That is the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"No it's not," she grinned. "This is."

Now she perfectly imitated the voice of the therapist Amelia had briefly met that afternoon. "You also chose to be born into that family and not only chose but allowed all these things to happen to you."

Jade interrupted before Michelle could go any further. "Be careful or Miss Amy will give you that speech."

"Shut up," Amelia pushed away Jade with one hand, "no one can be that stupid!"

"Oh believe me, the longer you've been here, the most shit like that you're gonna hear. All from the mouths of people who are here to help us."

Amelia felt like she were sinking. With a glance back at the building office she asked,

"Doesn't this place have trained staff? I was told I was going to be sent to a home for girls where I would get daily therapy sessions and one-on-one sessions to learn to identify and cope with the trauma in my life."

All the girls laughed hysterically, some until they fell to the floor, where they still continued to laugh till they choked.

Gloria spoke with the voice of long experience. Being one of the older girls, Amelia guessed she'd been there the longest. "They get trained staff when it's time for their yearly review from the state. They hire some girls with a background in social work or psychology. People who actually know what they're doing and want to help us."

"And?"

"And qualified trained staff members know the laws, they know this place is so far out of compliance and goes directly against court orders for mental health- they complain. They report this place to the state. They point out everything that is wrong. But the house manager can't stand having anyone here who knows more than her, or is a risk to the amount of extra money she gets as a kick back for each resident, so after the state comes in, they get fired."

"Didn't they get in trouble when that Kelsey girl had a heart attack?"

"No. Because when anything really predictable and awful happens, the district manager shows up. She's the biggest bitch you've ever met- because she allows all this to happen and acts like she truly cares about it. The scary thing is, if you didn't know her, you'd believe it. She's the best actress I've ever seen."

"The first time you meet her, she'll suck you in." The little smart blond girl spoke this time. "She's like the mom from 7th Heaven, she acts like the mom everyone wants to have- but then bam! When no one's looking-"

"She's the one that fires the trained staff." Jade interrupted

Michelle held up a hand to stop her further, adding, "She's the one who makes all the 'rules' you don't see in that handbook and says it's okay to go against the rules that are there, like forcing us to go to their stupid church."

"And taking the doors off our rooms so we can't have privacy."

"Oh, and don't forget they'll force us to get up at 6AM and watch the news. You can't shower in the morning either, it has to be at night."

"And good luck being allowed tampons." Jade looked disgusted. "They make us use maxi pads. If you want tampons, you have to steal them from the school nurse's office, or the store. I mean who's gonna actually arrest you for stealing tampons? And when you say why you have to steal them?" She chuckled. "I don't think so."

A creaking sound came down the hallway. "We're leaving for church in five minutes!"

"Okay!" The group chorused. All but Amelia. She was still in shock. That places like this existed. That worse places existed. And yet they were all supposed to be better than an abusive home. Sure she got beat and raped every single day of her memory, but at least she had a door on her room (not that it mattered to her father), and she could use the phone or the internet, and was sometimes allowed to go over to a friend's house.

Numbly, she was lead to the group van, and placed inside. In a daze as they rode along the road she thought,

This place treats you like a criminal. When your only crime was reporting being abused. Our abusers deserve to live in a hell like this, not us.


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey!”  
The familiar voice boomed like the sound of a car backfiring. “Hey!” Chante felt a hand on her bare shoulder. It was Devon.  
“Look at me when I talk to you!” The voice was like the growl of a rabid dog. “You answer me when I talk to you!” 

A second voice, a drawl of boredom called out from across the room, too engaged in video games to actually find out. “What'd she do now?” 

“Would you look at her?” The first voice spoke with clear disgust, as if she were covered in dog shit at a wedding. Entirely inappropriate, shameful, worthy of punishment, and most importantly, something that no one wanted. 

The second voice, still barely paying attention offered, “Yesterday you said she can't look at you.”   
“When I talk to her?” He asked, his voice now an entirely normal conversational tone, a genuine need for this information.   
“Um, I think you meant ever.”   
'”Oh,” the voice was softer, as if considering a mistake. Then quickly the voice added, “Okay then, she can't look at me, but when I talk to her she better answer!”   
“What if you tell her to look at you? Like you just did?”   
Chante was staring at the floor, her body tense, her spirit entirely resigned.   
There was a long pause as the first boy considered. Finally he amended his order,  
“Well, I just won't tell her to do that then- and neither should you!”  
“Fine by me.” The second voice was barely caring still engrossed entirely in the video game.  
“Okay.”   
Another pause.  
“Well, look at her already!” The words clearly directed at Scott, the gamer.  
Annoyed, he threw aside his controller and turned around in his seat so that he had both a view of his brother and of the girl.   
“Can you believe her? I mean look at her! Just walking around this house buck naked!” He paused letting that sink in before adding, “Right here in the living room, with this big picture window! And the curtains are wide open! I can see the side-walk, I can see the street! I can see anyone walking or driving past and wave at them- and they can see anyone in here. Anyone.”

He took a few steps closer and Chante steeled her body without allowing any expression on her face or within her body. It was the one horrible thing she was forced to have control over, for her own safety.   
“And you have the indecency to just walk around this house buck naked for the world to see? You must be sellin' it if you're advertising. Too bad no one would ever want you. What if a neighbor walked by? What if some small impressionable child walked past looked in the window and saw you just standing here, naked?”  
He shook his head as if truly at a loss.   
“You're just a fucking slut. Who else would walk around naked? I didn't see you make a move to get your clothes. You didn't ask for them. You're not even trying to cover yourself with your hands, like a girl with honest shame would.”  
Chante was silent.   
Scott punched her so hard in the side of her head that she flew across the room, slamming the other side of her head against the side of the room partition.   
Then he rushed to her as she lay crumpled on the floor, pressing his face against hers. “Why the fuck aren't you wearing your goddamn clothes?” He screamed, his voice making her ears ring in pain.  
“Is this one of the times you want her to answer you?”  
“Shut up, Scott,” he glared at him.   
“She's still not answering me,” he added.   
There was no point in answering, Chante knew, just as she knew they'd hidden the clothes they'd stripped off her that morning in the top cabinet in the kitchen. Too high up for her to reach on her own.   
“Oh.” The gamer's voice took on an entirely different tone, as a smile lit his face and brightened his eyes. “I think that qualifies as a mistake.”   
Then he morphed from entirely uninterested teenage boy into what he truly was, another monster. And not an alien, monster-looking creature, just your average teenage male who happened to enjoy sexually abusing little girls. He turned off the gaming system, but without turning the TV off or bothering to change the channel, he turned to look at Chante.   
Devon's eyes gleamed as he looked at her. “We've told you and told you what's going to happen to you if you make a mistake in this house,” as if it pained him. “Now you know what we have to do.”   
“If you'd just act right like a normal kid, we wouldn't have to do anything to you at all. No punishment. We could just live together happily and have fun.”

She just lay there, having learned long ago silence and motion like the dead was the best answer for them. Devon jerked her up from the floor by one arm.  
He steered her towards the coffee table in the middle of the room, directly in front of the picture window. The couch was on the other side of the room, the only thing between the coffee table and the picture window was air. The couch had originally occupied that space, but had been moved by them.   
He sat her down on the coffee table, so that she clearly faced the street for all to see. From the street people driving by (if they bothered to look) could probably see her face, neck and shamefully barely pubescent breasts. If someone were looking from the sidewalk, they'd be able to see she was naked from the waist down, too.   
“Come on, let's go to the mall,” he grabbed his wallet from the top of the TV console.   
“Don't you fucking move from that spot. You touch the TV, we'll know. You change the channel on the TV, we'll know. And then, we'll have to punish you again.” They were looking forward to it. And, Chante knew, they were going to punish her anyway.  
She watched them leave, saw them walk past the picture window, fingers pointed at her, wagging in a 'no-no' sign. But they weren't frowning at her, they were smiling like criminals who knew they had the upper hand. 

Because they did.   
An hour later, Chante heard footsteps. She didn't tense in preparation; she'd been tense the entire hour, never knowing when they would return, thus needing to keep her body ever vigilant, ever prepared. The key turned in both locks and the two walked in the front door.   
“Did you fucking move?” Devon snarled, staring at her. He walked over so he stood between her and the picture window. “Yeah,” he nodded repeatedly, pointing to a spot on the coffee table. “You put her over there,” he pointed right at Chante's left hip, indicating she'd moved a millimeter or so.  
“She moved!” He insisted.  
This was no surprise. Every day, multiple times a day they would make up a mistake she needed to be punished for. Most kids would brush their teeth or take a shower as part of their morning routine right after waking up. For Chante, she was immediately raped. Every single morning. Then forced to eat breakfast with them as if nothing had happened. Because that added to their fun.   
Scott grinned. “You know what I feel like?” His smile was so wide it made his eyes crinkle. He looked like a kid at an amusement park. Happy, so blissfully happy on a summer day, with no troubles, no cares.   
“What?” Devon was smiling back, eager. After all, there were so many possibilities. So many ways to play with their favorite toy.   
Scott looked down at Chante and smiled a slow smile. “I feel like some target practice!” His teeth gleamed as he grinned, his smile nearly splicing his face in half.   
“Yeah!”  
They both ran to a room in the back. Then Chante could hear them at the kitchen sink.   
In seconds they were running back. Scott picked Chante up by the shoulders, while Devon grabbed her legs.  
As usual, as this was a daily activity, they sat her down on the floor in the furthest edge of the room, with the couch at her back. Scott pulled the coffee table over. Then he grabbed Chante's left leg and pulled it straight out to the side, held it there with one hand, then pushed the leg of the coffee table against it so the leg was pushed back as far as it could go, and pinned there between the leg of the small couch and the coffee table.   
While Scott was doing that, Devon pulled over the heavy footstool. Then he grabbed her right foot, and pulled her right leg as far to the right as it would go, until her foot touched another couch leg, then he pushed the footstool into place, pinning her right leg.   
Chante felt like she was going to throw up from the pain, but knew better than to show any emotion in her face, and not to make a sound. They liked it when they hurt her. And they knew they were hurting her now. She had long given up even bothering to fight, having learned the hard way that it only made things worse.  
“All right, me first!” Scott yelled, running back to the other side of the room. He lay belly down on the floor, and grabbed the squirt gun. Laying against the floor with the gun, it was about level with Chante's now fully exposed vagina.   
Devon stayed next to Chante to make sure she didn't move, or didn't try to close her legs.   
Scott started spraying the squirt gun at Chante, or specifically her vagina. “Got her!” He yelled joyously. Then he kept shooting her with water and laughing hysterically, whooping it up as if he were playing a carnival game. Sometimes they'd shoot at the nipples of her barely existent breasts, while yelling at her about how no one would ever want her because she was flat as a board. She should be grateful they were touching her at all, because no one else would. This wasn't a new game for Chante. It was something they did to her every day. Sometimes more than once. It was summer after all, and who didn't like playing with squirt guns in the summer? As they demonstrated each time, this game was truly hysterical.   
“She's not even trying to cover herself!” Scott yelled, Her hands are free! Nothing's stopping her from stopping this!”   
“My turn!” Devon interrupted any further speech from Scott.   
And he repeated the same as Scott, until his squirt gun was out of water.  
The moment he threw his toy down, he gaped at her.  
“Go get your damn clothes for Christs' sake! What the hell are you doing sitting there like that, naked, flashing us? You're such a fucking slut! Have some decency. We don't wanna see that!”  
“Yeah,” Scott snorted with disdain, looking her body up and down, appraising. “We definitely don't wanna see that! No one would.”  
Wordlessly, and with extreme care, though with a face that betrayed zero emotion, and if anything looked as if she did not care, as if this did not bother her at all, Chante carefully wiggled one foot until she could loosen it from being jammed between the couch leg and the footstool. She used both hands and all her strength to carry that leg back to the center of her body, without having to use the pulverized muscles of that leg, before repeating the same motions to free the other leg. Then carefully she pushed herself up to standing.   
“Move that shit back where you got it from!” Scott yelled before Chante had moved a step away from the couch.   
Fighting to hide her fear, as she knew the extra effort was going to hurt, her shoulders dropped with a sudden inaudible sigh. The expression on her face was no longer nothing, it was sheer misery. Pushing both pieces of furniture with her hands was the least painful.   
“Now go back to your room, Medusa.”  
She started to walk past the open window to get to the hallway.   
“No, slower. This is your punishment for not trying to cover yourself. I want you to take a full two minutes to walk from that spot, across the room to me.” Scott held up his watch, that Chante knew he'd stolen from the mall, and timed her. He wanted her to feel the shame and fear of hundreds of strangers seeing her ugly naked body and feel ashamed. To hate her life. 

Five minutes later she lay on the cold basement floor, knowing it was only a short matter of minutes before they called her back for more fun. Sometimes they'd 'let' her play video games with them, or take her to the park. But that was part of their cruel torture- never letting her know when they were calling her to physically harm her, or just inflict the mental harm of knowing their assaults would happen at a different time. And as always, she wondered if today was the day that they were going to kill her. Or would it be tomorrow? But nothing else was a question, everything they would do to her was a certainty.   
Chante lay there and tried not to think.   
A/n It took me months to write this. It was really not fun. So please review with thoughts. Perhaps, what questions or thoughts you have or, what would you like to see happen to Devon and Scott?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> letters

Sorry I forgot to update. Now I'm behind schedule. As you'll see, I wasn't lying about fanfic writers being sued. One graciously provided us with content. Yes Supergirl, do be careful when writing smut.

Supergirl,

My husband has been raping my daughter every night for the last five years. I'm too afraid of him to stop him myself. I don't want to have him arrested. He's the love of my life, and your husband is always supposed to come first in a woman's life, not her children. After all children will leave the nest, my husband will be with me until I die. Could you just talk to him? Tell him that what he is doing is wrong? I've talked to my daughter. I told her that men do things like this. If she didn't dress so provocatively he wouldn't feel that he has the right to have sex with her in the first place.

\- Mrs. Brianna Smith

(the reader who submitted this letter told me to say that this is reader-submitted and that this is what her mother told her. The reader is now an adult and has no contact with her insane criminal family- I thought you'd all like to know that. :) As always names are changed.)

 

Dear Supergirl,

I don't know if you got my last letter. So, in case you didn't, I'll give you a quick recap. I finally got away from the man that was raping me every day. Moved across country just to be rid of him. But he's such a clever manipulator that he had even family and friends convinced he was a nice guy. But no rapist is a nice guy. So when I moved away, I left without telling anyone where I really moved to- I told them I moved to Atlanta. But, that wasn't enough. My abuser tracked me down moved here and began stalking me in real life and online. I got a restraining order. Now he's suing me for the pain and suffering I caused him in getting a restraining order. His lawyer is even using fanfiction I wrote to prove that I'm a liar and he's innocent. Writing fanfiction can prove you're a liar, and look out Supergirl if you like to write smut, because if you do a lawyer can say "You love sex, you fantasize about it. What my client did to you wasn't rape, it was sex, and by your own written admission you love sex. You have published fanfiction stories that are all about the subject." Yes, Supergirl sex and rape are one and the same in the eyes of the justice system. 

The judge decided not to grant my restraining order because I had no proof of needing protection from him. And his lawyer had hundreds of pages of my fanfiction both 'regular' and 'smut' as evidence against me.

Could you throw a building at him next time you see him? You'd be doing womankind a favor.

Sincerely,

Natalie Angrim  
(the very popular fanfic writer who provided this said that 'it's not unusual for shady lawyers to hack into victims computers, because there was no other way for my rapist to find my stories online. I use 0 identifying information. And as you've seen Late, I'm not the only victim whose fanfiction stories are being used against her.'  
True. I've since learned of other sexual abuse victims on ff.net and AOO who've been forced by a legal order to remove their stories, even though there's no legal grounds that could require the removal, it was that, or continue to daily retraumatization of the year long pre-trial process where every aspect of a victims' life is examined by the other side in order to prove her a liar...all before ever going to court. So it's easy to see why women would "choose" to destroy their own writings than go through that hell. Other writers have been told that their ff about abuse was a 'kink' because no one who's truly abused would ever write about abuse. 

Many of us writers are outraged by this treatment. Most writers incorporate abuse into at least some of their stories for its cathartic purposes the writing helps the writer as well as the reader. If you're a writer and would like to take part in the movement to risk this, let me know. I can tell you the very simple actions to take that will help other writers keep from having their fictions used against them in court etc. It's social justice fanfiction style. I go into much more detail on ff.net if you want to follow over there as well.


	7. Chapter 7

I updated the newest chapter but apparently now I screwed up the formatting so the newest chapter is the one before this one and I guess the next chapter will just have to come after this bizarre place holder/notice


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time-wise this chap takes place right after Alex showing Kara the balloons outside. Everything else was taking place at the same time or obviously, was the content of a letter Supergirl read.

"Miss Grant!"

Kara charged into Miss Grant's office with a passion, even though she was a half hour late for work. She held a stack of papers in her outstretched hand, almost as if Miss Grant had done something wrong, and needed to be put to task for it. Kara was furious beyond words. She'd been in a seething rage since 2AM when Alex had awoken her and Kara's apartment had become carpeted in letters from abused girls and women. Wall to wall letters of abuse and pain.

"Kira." Grant put down a latte she'd obtained herself and stared. " While I do not like that tone directed at me, I am intrigued by this sudden display of non-meek emotion. So before I fire you, what is going on in your little world that has you speaking to me this way and walking in here with the entitlement of a white man?

"Your world!" It was the simplest answer. "Our world." She corrected.

"Is this going to turn into a 1990's Kids for Saving Earth environmentalist campaign?"

"I want you to write an article, or... a series of articles. Use RAINN as a resource. Make commercials, start a fundraiser."

"You want me to do something? Are you telling me what to do?"

"Yes!"

Cat Grant gazed placidly at her assistant who was wearing gray sweat pants and a baseball shirt- her pajamas, she realized.

"My god Kira, did you march to work in your pajamas?!" She looked at Kara as if she were a moldy tuna fish sandwich.

"That's not important!" Kara shouted. Then considered how lucky she was that she'd put pajamas on instead of going to work as Supergirl.

Cat held back laughter and was a combination of mildly impressed and mildly entertained, so she'd let this continue. Cooly she asked,

"Well, which?"

Kara was confused. Her head was still spinning with rage at what she'd read in those letters. She'd stayed up for hours reading them.

"Which what?" She asked dumbly.

"Which thing are you wanting me to do?"

"All of them. We have the money."

"I didn't know you worked in accounting, Kira."

In answer Kara put a pile of approximately 20 letters on Cat Grants desk. "These are all letters from people who are being hurt in our community."

Honestly she hadn't even had a chance to read this particular batch of letters. She'd just grabbed from the pile on her apartment floor.

"I've been doing some research for the writers, for a few weeks and um, well there are these letters."

"Which writer?"

"Um, um, oh you know, the one with the brown hair?"

While Kara was standing there, mouth agape trying to think of a plausible lie, Miss Grant added,

"Did people send these letters to you?"

"Uh, um," she folded her hands in front of her with a swinging motion, "I believe they are addressed, to, to..Supergirl," she nodded.

"Which begs the question, "how did you get them?"

"I..."

As she was struggling with an answer Miss Grants eyes locked on one of the letters. She reached for her reading glasses and was silent, holding the paper up closer.

"You can go Kira," she announced.

"But Miss Grant what are we-"

She made a dismissive motion with her hand. "We are going to do nothing. Now, go. I'm very busy and I can't have you blustering in my way."

Kara opened her mouth to object but then saw the letter in Miss Grant's hand. With a tiny hope, she turned on her heel and walked back to her desk.

But the moment she sat down she knew she couldn't just sit there all day while so many people were in need of help. No, not help. Genuine saving. And what could Miss Grant do, really, compared to her?

Kara knocked the cup of coffee on her desk onto herself. "Oh no!" She cried. "I have spilled coffee all over myself! I have to go get cleaned up or possibly go home or go shopping for new clothes!" There was a pause and she added, "Right now!"

"Please, by all means Kira," she could hear Miss Grant's voice calling from the office, "all of the above! This is a place of business, not a girls' slumber party."

Winn locked his dark eyes on her, barely supressing a smile. "Real subtle. Acting is a -10 out of 10."

10 Seconds Later...

The last daughter of Krypton was in a horrible mood. First, her own sister had insisted that trying to help suffering people was a mistake- a huge mistake. Even though that was her life's calling. Then, while at work Cat Grant had made no effort, showed no interest in helping. In fact everyone treated this clear epidemic of abuse as if it were nothing more menacing than the common cold-which she never got, of course.

Now she was staring at Alex, J'onn, Agent Vasquez and everyone else standing in the DEO's core. Infuriated because they didn't seem the least bit upset, or even surprised.

She'd shown them the letters she'd picked up from home, even outlined in detail what was in most of them.

Alex had called Maggie as non-DEO- I -just- want- an -excuse -to- be -with- my- girlfriend backup because Kara was 'ranting about child abuse'. And now that Maggie was there... well she wasn't much help. No one seemed as upset as Kara was. Not even close.

"Let me remind you," Sawyer looked at Alex, "that I am not part of the force's special victims' unit,". It seemed like a reminder, or really that she'd been insulted. As if Alex had forgotten that Maggie was actually in the science and forensic evidence division within the department.

"Without some plausible reason, some credible evidence," Maggie's annoyingly calm voice grated on Kara's nerves, " law enforcement and social workers can do nothing. At best, they might investigate at their leisure."

"How can you say that? Have you even read one of these?" Kara waved one of the letters in the air to make her point, though frankly she was so furious she was thinking of using heat vision on something- or even someone.

Alex stepped forward, took the paper from Kara's hand, and laid it back down on the consol.

She's shutting me down, Kara realized. It felt as if she were sinking, or like reality had stopped working. Or, perhaps her brain had.

"What do you expect us to do, Kara?" Alex was staring at her. All decked out in her black DEO uniform and doing...nothing.

Kara felt like Alex had punched her. With flippant rage she glared and answered, "You heard the law," she sneered giving a dark look to Maggie, "these rapists etc are practically not dangerous at all, so I guess there is nothing that needs to be done. So sorry, shouldn't have bothered you with this. Since it's not a problem or anything."

"That is not what I said," Maggie growled back, looking daggers at Kara. "I would never say that!"

"Did someone give her some Red Kyptonite?" Z'onn hissed, but of course Kara heard him.

"Just some reality, sir," Alex answered. "This much of it can be hard to swallow."

"I can't believe you all are willing to do nothing!" Kara slammed her fists down on the consol, sending the papers flying, and leaving two large dents behind. Vasquez silently bent to retrieve the letters and place them back.

"I'll say it again, Supergirl," J'onn's jaw was tight with controlled anger, "we are not the social services division. The DEO's job is not to help abuse victims. That, Miss Danvers, is the job of police, judges, social workers, and the established line of justice on this planet!" His voice had become a gravely growl. It didn't need to be said that this abuse reminded him of the abuse of his own people, and he did not like to be reminded of it. Nor be reminded of his inadequacy and helplessness against so much evil. Again.

Kara looked from face to face as rage continued to build within her. What could she do to make them help? They seemed so complacent in their inaction, so determined not to care. It was sickening.

Finally, Kara decided it was hopeless. Actually, she decided that the situation was nowhere near as hopeless as the group thought it was, hence their complete lack of desire to help, but the problem was them, not her. She glanced at them all one more time and announced,

"I quit."

It was a simple solution. They were unwilling to act, not her. Of course, Kara still defended her unabridged right to the safety of the city and her own moral high ground.

"I have meaningful work to do, saving people's lives." The group was as useful as a bunch of statues.

Alex reached out for her sister's shoulder, but Kara was faster. No sooner had Alex begun to reach for her then a red streak flashed before them, and left Alex to grab a handful of air.

They all stared upward at the air for a while. It was easier than making eye contact with each other. You didn't really want to look at other people when you were ashamed of yourself. They stood still in place in awkward silence for several very long seconds.

"Well that went well." Alex pushed a hank of her brown hair behind her ear. She looked at the variety of the papers that Kara's tailwind had knocked over- apparently Kara had taken a good number of them with her but not all as she flew off.

Maggie leaned into Alex, allowing her cascade of hair to fall over both their faces hiding them as she kissed Alex's forehead. Alex looked back at her, Maggie's hair effectively curtaining them off, J'onn and Vasquez out of view entirely.

"We have to help her," she whispered, staring into Maggie's eyes and in a blink making note of her sun-kissed, dimpled baby-face.

Maggie sighed, withdrawing her face from Alex's,her hair falling back as she straightened up. "Fine," she spat the word out as one would, who wasn't used to being opposed or relinquishing even a bit of her hard won power.

She put her hands on her hips and straightened her back as if to take back that tender moment, and replace it with unyielding authority.

"Everyone look away from the consol for ten seconds." Sawyer's voice was a command. As if she were in charge of the DEO.

Alex turned herself away entirely and began to whistle. J'onn looked at the ceiling, and wished Kara had used a door upon exiting the building. (I mean seriously, do they ever address how much damage Kara causes when she just 'flies off' ie she must be shooting through the building roof not using the door!)

They heard the slight ruffle of paper, then Sawyer say, "Okay you may now look back in my direction, if you so choose."

The pile was slightly smaller.

"There's the law, and then there's the law," Maggie began in a stern tone. "Now if you will all excuse me, I have official police business to tend to."

Alex grinned like a Cheshire cat and hurried to walk her out. They were walking down a narrow empty hallway before Alex turned to her girlfriend. Walking backwards so that she could face Maggie, she spoke urgently.

"Tell me what to tell her. I don't want my sister getting arrested."

Without breaking her stride, Maggie followed Alex forward toward the door and answered the professional truth,

"There is a legal way to deal with everything."

Still walking backwards, Alex was silent, waiting for Maggie to continue. Now she knew her love had something up her sleeve.

"First of all, she cannot just swoop down and fly these kids away as soon as she sees them get off the school bus."

She made eye contact with Alex to be certain that point was well driven home.

"Tell your sister to take her phone. Use the camera. She can only act if she sees and records an actual crime being comitted. Then when she's got enough visual evidence she can turn off the camera."

They'd reached an exit door. Alex pushed it open with her backside and held the door as Maggie walked through past her. The bright sunshine of the day replaced the darkness that pervaded the interior of the DEO. When Alex fell in line with her again Maggie asked,

"Remember what I said about cops abusing their family?"

"I do." Alex gave a curt professional nod, lacing her fingers behind her back as they walked to Maggie's car.

"Well that may be true, but the strangest thing is that they really hate when other people abuse women and children. Funny how that twisted logic error gets past them, but it does."

"What do they do to the offenders?"

"Oh, they don't do anything," Maggie looked offended at the very suggestion. "But if someone should trip, or fall against something...repeatedly, well, that's not the cops fault."

"I see."

Maggie had opened the car door and stood as if waiting for Alex to ask more questions. As if she needed Alex to say the words before Maggie could put her two cents in again.

"What else?"

That was enough.

"Take the kids to the police station. She must tell them that the child needs a 24 hour emergency protective hold. Show them the video evidence, and the letter. That will give the time to establish cause for holding the child longer, and then putting them into foster care or a group home."

"What about the adult women?"

"They're on their own. Kara can get them away, but it's up to the women to report to the cops and find a safe place to stay after that." She sat down in the driver's seat, and swung her legs into the car.

"I wish I could talk more, but I have a shift to cover at the station and have to be going now."

Hand on the door handle, Maggie looked into Alex's unworried brown eyes and asked her, "You don't think Kara really quit, do you?"

Alex was shaking her head and gave a half smile. "No, she's just angry. She'll be back."

Maggie nodded. "I agree with your assessment, Danvers. Just wanted to make sure."

"Have fun with your reading material," Alex grinned, her eyes laughing at Maggie.

"I don't know what you're talking about." With a smile in return but no kiss, Maggie closed the car door, put the car in gear and drove away.

Alex strode back to the DEO command center and looked at the papers that were left on the consol.

"There were more papers here, when I left," she looked at Vasquez.

Agent Vasquez shrugged up one shoulder. "I don't know Ma'am," she answered. "I didn't really notice."

It was an obvious lie.

Alex scooped up what was left and walked away.

Now this is the part where you write about what you've read.


End file.
